Visions of Ragnarok
by Madam Callisto
Summary: Every night that he spends sleeping next to Thor, Loki dreams of the end of the world. A mythology AU. Warning for major character death.


_A/N: A big thanks to my lovely beta movieexpert1978 for their part in this._

* * *

The wind that blows through the final battlefield smells of carrion flesh and death.

He can see Thor now across the grey waters, a figure standing tall against the bleakness of the earth around him. Hammer in hand, face set in a hard line of defiance and hatred which burns hot in his eyes. He stands at Odins side, cape blown taut by the wind and robbed of all color by the pale light of the sky. Endless ranks of men, all loyal warriors of Asgard with their swords, and axes, and daggers at the ready flank them along the shoreline. They stand in silence as they watch Naglfari approaching.

The ship strikes the shoreline and crumbles to pieces, shards of overgrown and twisted nails sinking into the water, releasing the smell of rot they carry with them higher into the air. But before the ship can completely sink, Loki is already ashore, the burning wind at his back telling him that though he isn't looking at them, the Giants stand at his side as well. Hel has lent her armies as well and they gather together besides him. The Asgardian had cleared a path at the ships arrival but have since stood by expectantly, neither moving to attack nor showing any signs of planning to flee—not that Loki expected to see any.

Asgards army holds its ground as Odin and Thor step forwards, closing the gap between them. With a whispered word to Surtr, the fire jotar do the same. The Black One gives Loki a nod and he moves to meet them alone, a small smile on his lips.

Odin's words are what he expects them to be; a condemnation of his actions, a request for discontinuance, and then when he sees that he words do nothing to melt the layer of ice around the Tricksters eyes, whispered pleas. All the while Loki stands in silence and listens to the All-Fathers words, for once finding the better use for his silver tongue is not to use it all. He lets his eyes wander, letting them fall onto the tense figure of his once-brother as Odin's words rush over him.

Thor does not look away from Loki's gaze, meeting his stare with a hard one of his own, a gaze once molten with the strength of a fiery rage unmatched but now cooled into twin pools of blue reflecting nothing but cold hatred. Loki smiles wider at him. It suits him—the hatred. It is simple and loosens what remained of the doubt Loki might have felt.

By Thor's stare he can assume that the same look is reflected in his own eyes, though it is hidden behind a smile. He can feel it, a tight coiling in the pit of his stomach, hot and heavy that makes him want to reach forward now and tear out the Thunderers throat here and now, to peel the gods armor away and the flesh beneath it with his knives until he can tear his heart out of his chest with his bare hands—but no. Not now. The All-father demands his attention.

"What is it that you hope to gain from this, Loki?" His voice holds an edge to it that Loki might almost confuse with pain were he a stupider man.

"Nothing," he says. Though he addresses the All-Father his eyes never leave Thors face, "I would simply see the Aesir dead and the precious planet you protect in ashes."

Thor turns at this, stalking away back towards where the Asgardian wait, hammer singing as he swings it through the air. Loki finally meets Odin's gaze only to see him shaking his head.

"Is one sons blood not enough?"

* * *

When he awakens Thor has flung an arm over his chest and is snoring softly in his ear. The raw heat that once pulsed through his veins has been replaced by the heat of Thor's body over his own. Loki pushes the sleeping god over and rolls himself carefully out of bed. He is shaking, he realizes as he stares down at his hands, slight tremors rock them.

He leaves Thor's room quickly, too scared to even look at his brother sleeping face least it still bear traces of the hatred that it did in his dreams—or worse if he remembers his own.

"Are you alright, brother?" Thor asks him at breakfast. Loki blinks and looks away from his goblet. Thor is staring at his from across the table with a look of concern and Odin and Frigga have stopped talking as well. Frigga gaze is the same one she's worn since he'd come home with scraped knees as a child. Baldr's wide eyes stare at him questioningly from where he sits between their parents.

"Loki?" Thor says. Loki realizes he has not answered.

"I'm fine," he say, "I just didn't sleep very well."

"Are you sure that's all, my son?" Frigga says, "You look pale."

"It's nothing." Loki gets up, pushing away his untouched food. "I will just try to get some sleep."

Thor shoots him a questioning look, his face heavy with concern and all the love he cannot speak out loud in the company of others but all Loki can see are the blues stained with hate.

* * *

The shattered edges of the rainbow leave the sky grey but for the stumps of fading color they cast on the horizon.

Loki laughs as he dances across the battlefield, nothing but the shadow of dark green, the spark of a pale fire and fallen bodies to mark his presence. Recognition flashes briefly across confused faces before the shock of an icy blade wipes it away. There is Aesir blood marring his clothing now. There has been Aesir blood on him for a long time.

Thor can only be found by following the path of broken skulls and scattered bodies. Loki means to follow the path of carnage, let it lead it back to Thor but he caught off guard at the sight of the All-father falling with a cry beneath Fenrir's teeth. The wolf growls around torn flesh and with a firm snap of its jaws the All-father is still and Loki is laughing, sides aching as he watches the God of Battle fall onto the battlefield as nothing more than one of a thousand other corpse.

He laughs as he cuts his way through warm Aesir flesh, laughs so hard he cries.

* * *

Thor is shouting his name **as **he shakes him awake. Loki gasps, dizzy as he is pulled back into what for the shortest of moments is an unfamiliar place full of a warmth long foreign to him and of a face he knows only in hatred.

His hands have closed around Thor's throat.

Now that he is awake Thor says his name quieter but Loki can't make himself let go. Not yet. The battle is not over until ever Aesir lays dead and rotten before him, he finds himself saying.

Thor does not move to stop him. His hands lay at his sides though at Loki's words a furrow forms in his brow. He hears his name again, whispered softer and Thor slowly raises his hands, not to force Loki off but to cup the sides of his face. His eyes blur as wetness fills them and Loki lets go.

Loki thinks it is the uniquely Thor mixture of kindness and stupidity that stops his brother from asking questions or doing anymore than wrapping his arms around Loki again and waiting for them both to fall back asleep._ Bad dreams,_ he says into Thors chest a though that explains everything and Thor hums in response, hugging him a little tighter. In a relatively short time Thor is asleep once more as if an attempt had not early been made on his life and Loki is left staring into the darkness of his chambers, eyes wide and fearful of what he might see when his eyes close again so he doesn't close them.

In the morning he goes to see Frigga.

She looks worried at the state he is in, fussing about the bags under his eyes and asking if he's feeling worse. Loki shrugs the questions off as well he can and asks about what he came to her for.

"My premonitions?" She asks, "I always thought you did not see the value in such things."

"I typically do not when it is so vague an art form," says Loki, "But when I am faced with my own it seems wise to at least consider their validity."

"Oh!" Frigga says, excitement creeping into her voice, "Of course. I will do what I can,"

The more they talk the harder it is for Frigga to hide her excitement at Loki sharing her gift. She retreats into the smaller room that sits alongside her and Odin's personal chambers and returns with her arms full of books and scrolls which she places down on a table and then begins to sort through. Loki nods wearily as she explains the purposes behind each one, basic premonition translation; spells to invoke clearer and more precise prophecies, tools which aid in bring out one's natural gift of Sight.

At some point she must notice that Loki's interest is more than academic curiosity, "May I ask what you it is saw?" She asks. Loki looks up, a lie ready on the tip of his tongue, and then sighs.

"I would rather you didn't, mother," he says instead and Frigga nods, handing him the books she says might be more useful to him.

"I wouldn't not place too much weight on what your Sight tells you, my son, it does not always foretell things that must happen. At times it merely tells what may, or has already happened." Her voice is soft when she addresses Loki and they carry a warmth with them that eases the tension in him somewhat, "Do not let what you see consume you."

That night he tells Thor that he is not feeling well and declines the latest of far too many feasts. Thor at first looks hurt that he will not be attending but then nods, planting a kiss against his forehead when they are out of sight and tells him to get all the rest he need. Loki promises that he will and then locks himself in his chambers with a scrying bowl that Frigga has loaned him and several ancient texts. At some point Baldr knocks on his door, entering before given permission and asks what Loki is doing. Loki shoos the child away and with a few whispered words, seals his room from the outside. He is halfway through the third of his mother's text, seated on his heels in the middle of his room, when he finds himself nodding off and the book slips through his hands—

And then there is a knock on the door and Loki starts. There is sunlight pouring in through his window and he is curled up uncomfortably on the chilly floor. With a moan he gets up and answers the door, nodding politely to the young boy who tells him that his breakfast has been waiting for him for some time and that his attendance is requested. He has had a dreamless sleep for the first time in days.

Not wanting to worry Thor further he announces that he is feeling much better at breakfast but he does not think Thor and Frigga believe him. Odin stares skeptically at him over his goblet and Loki tries to make his effort to not meet his father's eyes look natural but he cannot un-see what he saw the previous night. Cannot unheard the sounds of bones crunching beneath a wolfs teeth and Odin's cries as the life was forced from his body. When Odin asks him if he is alright, Loki sees red when he looks into his father's eyes.

* * *

Loki runs his finger through the bloodied fur of his son. Fenrir growls low, happy to have pleased him and still hungers for Aesir flesh._ Go on, my love_, Loki whispers and the wolf is gone in a flash of teeth and sullied red fur leaving bodies in his wake. Around him, the smell of rot has long been overthrown by the copper of blood. The air is full of the cracking of ice against steel and the burn of fire that he has been casting on those who venture too close to him. And across the blood soaked field he can see Thor, stained so heavily in red that had he not seen Thor in this state many times before he might not recognize him.

In the blink of an eye the distance between them vanishes and Loki is bringing his dagger of ice to his brother throat with a savage grin.

The blade breaks when Mjolnir comes up to block its path and with a ruthless shove, Thor pushes Loki back and away from him. He lands softly on his feet, fresh dagger forming in his hands before the last one has completely fallen apart. Thor's chest is rising and falling quickly with his ragged breath, his pupils are blown wide now with his battle lust, thin blue lines stretched tight over black iris'. He stands at a low crouch, muscles tensing at every minor movement Loki makes and Loki has never better understood the feeling better than he does now. His body is a single raw nerve needing nothing more to be feed the heat of battle, the flush of victory over another and the pure senseless violence that come with it.

Wordlessly, Mjolnir falls into the dust and Loki's daggers fade into a blue mist as they stalk towards each other. Thor strikes first, the back of a fist meeting with Loki's jaw and nearly knocking him off his feet with the sheer force of it. Grinning Loki returns to favor with a punch of his own to a single thinner spot on the side of Thors armor that no one else knows about and laughs as he doubles over.

When Thor moves again it is not to punch him but to take firm hold of his forearm and drag Loki into a crushing kiss, more a clash of teeth than anything else and Loki moans against the lips that he bites bloody.

From there, there is nothing but the shuffling of armor and the rush of adrenaline in the way to ease the pain as the war torn earth below them bares witness to them. Where there were once gentle strokes there is now only harsh yanks of hair and bites and a hand laid meaningfully across a throat. Were they not so closely intertwined, Loki might not have heard the bestial grunts of pleasure that his body was still able to ring from Thor with the slightest clenching of muscles and the softest rolling of the hips.

Loki thinks that in his pleasure, mixed among bouts of manic laughter, he may have called out_ brother_ but the cry is wiped away by the wind and the sounds of battle and if Thor whispers_ damn you, Loki_, as he comes Loki can pretend he imagines it

In the distance a serpent bares its fangs to the pale sky.

* * *

He isn't sure what terrifies him more about the dream, the sight of his monsters, his children (for though he has seen no proof of it in his dreams he knows it to be true) seeking wanton death on his behalf or the fact that the grim feeling of satisfaction won't leave him until hours later.

Thor invited him to spar with him but Loki declines the offer. When he is asked why the lie of having a few texts he needs to read over comes easily enough. He doesn't say that he has no desire to see Thor fight in his waking life as well as his dream one.

He barely has time to watch as Mjolnir comes flying through the air to meet the snake when he is dodging out of the way of Heimdall's sword, a brilliant golden light his only warning to the appearance of the guardian of Asgard.

For a moment, in his panic, Loki forgets himself and Thor's name is on the tip of his tongue but he stops short and watches in cold disillusionment as the blade pierces his chest.

Thor finds him in the library three days later and Loki will not meet his eyes. Stacks upon stacks of books frame where he sits on a windows ledge, eyes under his bags so dark they resemble bruises more than anything else. With a sigh Thor sits himself down on the floor in front of him, paying no heed to the papers he crumbles as he does so.

"Brother," He says, "Whatever is consuming you—surely you can talk, if not me someone, anyone. Perhaps father can—"

"Father can do nothing to fix this," Loki says. He eyes are still focused on the book in hands, another balances on his knees that he occasionally looks to. "Nor will your doting around me. I simply need more time."

"Time for what? What could possibly be so terrible that you could not tell me knowing that I would only wish to help you?"

Loki shakes his head. "That's precisely it," he says, "I don't know. I don't know why this is happening. I don't know why...it is going to happen. I just don't know!"

"I do not—"

"Of course you don't," Loki snaps, "Just leave you are of no use to me."

Thor doesn't leave. He sits himself down on the library floor, refusing to be moved after Loki has thrown several of the less valuable books at him. Eventually Loki gives up and continues reading, occasionally stopping to slap a book out of Thor's indelicate hands. But Thor is at least silent through all of this, only ever flashing a smile at Loki's cold demeanor as he searches through endless scraps of paper for something not yet written. For something that will make him understand the biggest question he has in all of this madness.

There are texts on the events of his dreams, similar premonitions written and then hidden away into the darkest corners of the libraries. If he is to accept that his dreams of prophecy, that every single part of it will someday come to pass and that he will one day come to watch as the Asgardians fall and feel nothing but joy at the destruction of his own people than he must at least know why.

He was missing something and for all of his searching and spell casting he could not make the dreams come to him and tell him of the piece he was missing in between. The missing scene in this play that spelled the end of days for him and changed everything. But he is beginning to suspect that there is a way he can find out. For there is a pattern in the days the dreams come to him.

When he crawls into Thor's bed that night the arms that greet him are as welcoming as ever.

* * *

The carcass of snake torn into two lays thrown across Vigard, its blood sitting atop the earth without soaking into it as the dirt has already been fed far too much blood this day.

The battlefield has grown quiet. Not even the wind dares to blow too hard lest it disturb the dead. All that remains is the sounds of heavy footsteps, falling with a lumbering pace as they follow the sound of Loki's ragged breathing. Somewhere besides him lays Heimdalls corpse, a glint of gold shining in the corner of his eyes.

"Come to watch me die, Odinson?" Loki says. With what remains of his strength he rolls onto his side to watch Thors drag himself forward in uneasy steps. "Or have you come to die yourself?"

Nine steps—Thor's knees fall into the dust and clutches at the gaping wounds in his side. Fine puncture marks that have broken through his armor, his skin, flesh and bones and at the sight of him like this Loki finds it in himself to muster up a laugh. A new savage joy has risen to the surface that Loki had though beyond him at this point.

"Oh, look at you; the golden son of Asgard nothing more than a rat when faced with the Serpents' venom. It's working on you now isn't it?"

Thor's eyes are stained with the blood that covers his face and to hold Loki's gaze he must squint through them and the layers of grit and filth that cover him.

"Isn't this something, Thor? For all you do protect your precious Midgard from me you still could nothing to protects it from you, from all of us." Loki laughs bitterly and then coughs as blood fills his lungs.

"I loved you once…"

And then Thor falls quiet.

Loki reaches a hand over into the tangled mess of blond hair and tugs hard. Nothing. Loki yanks at his brothers fallen form and silky strands come away in his fist but the thunderer does not move. A short high sound both laugh and sob falls from his lips.

"I've won then," he says bitterly, and there is no one around to hear it.

Loki laughs and holds Thors body to him. Laughs and watches as Surtr's fires engulf them.

* * *

Thor's arms are wrapped so tightly around him when he wakes he is sure that Thor must think he**'s** about to fade from his arms at any moment. Loki cannot will himself to pull himself away so he leans further into the embrace and lets Thor whisper silly words of comfort into his hair.

"I'm going to be the death of you," Loki says at last, shaky voice muffled by the folds of the pillow below him.

"You will be no such thing," Thor says, "Now hush, go back to sleep."

For a time they are quiet and Loki waits for Thor to return to sleep only to hear that his breathing does not even out. He remains still, clutching Loki to himself for the rest of the night as though he could stand guard over the dreams that might try and haunt his brother. When the night sky has begun to fade into the mornings and blue spills into their chambers Loki finally asks, "What would it take for you to come to hate me?"

Thor loosens his hold around his shoulders enough to look into his eyes when he says, "There is nothing you could do to make me hate you, brother."

Cries and shouts fill the halls. Frigga is crying, sobbing and clutching Odin frantically as despair sets in. He holds the broken arrow in his hands, eyes hard. They are both stained red in the same blood. Thor kneels at their side and as Loki watched, he brings Mjolnir down and again, raising in up in shaking hands and then crushing the marble beneath him as he brings it down. Thor stops suddenly with his hammer held high above his head. His voice trembles when he speaks.

"What have you done, Loki...?"

There is a look in Thor's eyes. It's cold, earth shatteringly so. A blank sort of certainty falls over Loki, the feeling a man who stands on the precipice of something massive. He had thought this moment was something he feared and instead feels nothing but the numbness that comes with understanding. Not a complete understanding but more one that mirrors the cold tip of a blade as it drags against his skin: wary as it shifts to burrow deeper into his skin and tear him apart.

Thor clutches Baldr's body to him. The hole in his chest bears traces of Loki's mark: mistletoe. The tears began to fall down Thor's face.

"What have you done!"

_Oh,_ thinks Loki, a bitter smile on his lips, _so that was it._


End file.
